you, so don't you gat too fonny."

When he had gone Jane Clayton sank down upon her berth in utter
bewilderment. What was she to do? Suspicions as to the intentions
of the Swede swarmed her brain. Might she not be infinitely worse
off if she gave herself into his power than she already was?

No, she could be no worse off in company with the devil himself than
with Nikolas Rokoff, for the devil at least bore the reputation of
being a gentleman.

She swore a dozen times that she would not leave the Kincaid without
her baby, and yet she remained clothed long past her usual hour
for retiring, and her blankets were neatly rolled and bound with
stout cord, when about midnight there came a stealthy scratching
upon the panels of her door.

Swiftly she crossed the room and drew the bolt. Softly the door
swung open to admit the muffled figure of the Swede. On one arm
he carried a bundle, evidently his blankets. His other hand was
raised in a gesture commanding silence, a grimy forefinger upon
his lips.

He came quite close to her.

"Carry this," he said. "Do not make some noise when you see it.
It ban you kid."

Quick hands snatched the bundle from the cook, and hungry mother
arms folded the sleeping infant to her breast, while hot tears of